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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28317129">Once Bitten and Twice Shy</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/NETHERW4RT/pseuds/NETHERW4RT'>NETHERW4RT</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Video Blogging RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Party, Developing Relationship, Flirting, Fluff, Kissing, M/M, Mistletoe, Not Beta Read, Swearing, Teasing, karlnap is background/mentioned, mfs at a party and shit, we die like my motivation lol, woooo yeah baby thats what ive been waiting for, you know wtf is up!!!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 02:20:55</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,765</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28317129</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/NETHERW4RT/pseuds/NETHERW4RT</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p></p><blockquote>
  <p> “So, <em>George</em>,” the Brit drinks in the way his name rolls off of Dream’s tongue, as if it were sacred and fragile, “I’ll ask something else this time: are you going to let <em>me</em> kiss <em>you</em>?”</p>
</blockquote>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Karl Jacobs/Sapnap</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>721</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Once Bitten and Twice Shy</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alienu/gifts">Alienu</a>, <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/itisjosh/gifts">itisjosh</a>, <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cant_reach_the_countertop/gifts">Cant_reach_the_countertop</a>, <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aerine9/gifts">Aerine9</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Merry Christmas! Happy Holidays! :) this is my gift to u all lmao<br/>hopefully it’s up to par? idk but enjoy nonetheless 👍</p><p>title is a line from Last Christmas by Wham!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>George is sitting on a large sofa, stereotypical red solo cup in hand, when he realizes that he’s alone at one of the biggest parties of the year. He wasn’t supposed to be alone, not originally—Sapnap and Karl had practically <em> begged </em> him to come along with them. And yet here he is, in the middle of a room crowded with people he doesn’t know while his friends are off making out god-knows-where just because <em> they can and they want to</em>. </p><p>He scowls. This is worse than the time he walked in on the two of them making out right in his and Sapnap’s shared apartment kitchen—at least then he could retreat to his room and pretend like they weren’t still touching all over each other on the other side of the wall. But <em> no</em>, not here. George couldn’t even enjoy his eggnog without a couple sitting down next to him and getting all flirty with each other.</p><p>It isn’t that he hates them for being happy (well, maybe a little), he just can’t stand PDA. He thinks back to the last girlfriend he had and how he found it utterly impossible to even hold her hand in public, he thinks about how he has realized he wasn’t actually in love with her and ended everything, and then he stops thinking about it. George groans into the plastic cup and swallows another swig of eggnog while swatting away the voices that suggested that maybe he only hates PDA because he can’t understand the feeling of wanting to prove to the whole world just how much you love someone.</p><p>The taste in his mouth is less than pleasant; he can’t even enjoy his drink now, <em> great </em>. George sighs and heaves himself up from the warm comfort of the couch and locates the kitchen. He sure as hell doesn’t know whose house this is, let alone if Karl or Sapnap even know, but he, frankly, couldn’t give less of a shit while emptying the plastic cup into the sink and tossing it into the trash can. He’s still frowning as he tries to dip past someone in the doorframe, but a hand on his shoulder stops him.</p><p><em> Great</em>, he thinks again, bitterly.</p><p>“Woah, woah, sweetheart,” the person says, voice rich with flirtatious enthusiasm, “where do you think you’re going?”</p><p>“What?” George frowns, but his stomach churns at the sound of this man’s voice; it only gets worse when his gaze travels up the stupid ugly Christmas sweater he was wearing, landing on an equally stupid pretty face. Maybe that eggnog was worse than he thought. “Am I not allowed to go into the next room or something?”</p><p>“No, that’s not it.” He grins, the corners of his mouth dipping inwards in two awfully attractive dimples. George feels his heart swell the slightest bit, but blames it on some sort of faraway, faint nausea. The stranger runs a hand through dirty blond locks while his other hand gestures to the top of the doorframe where a cheery and poorly-hung mistletoe is perched. “You’re forgetting something.”</p><p>George falters. Firstly, he’s horrified that his immediate reaction is anything <em> other </em> than disgust. He finds that he actually wouldn’t mind kissing this handsome stranger, even if it meant falling into the same annoying rhythm the rest of the people at the party (most drunk out of their damn minds thanks to an unsatisfying mix of alcohol and eggnog) had settled into. Secondly, he realizes he’s being flirted with. Not that it didn’t happen ever, but it was mostly older women who wanted to play around with him and he always turned them down. That wasn’t his style—<em>isn’t </em>his style.</p><p>“Are you asking me to kiss you?” He manages out after a prolonged moment of semi-awkward silence.</p><p>“Only if you want to,” the man offers. It’s the bare minimum courtesy, but George feels his heart stutter inside of his chest nonetheless. <em> Fuck. </em></p><p>“Why would I want to?”</p><p>“I—what kind of question is that?” He peels himself off the side of the doorway for another passing couple and, by the shift in his expression, fully expects George to rush past at the opportunity. The Brit doesn’t, instead opting to stare up at the stranger as he turns the gears in his brain. “You’re asking me if I would know if you wanted to kiss me?”</p><p>“Dumb question,” George answers quickly whilst ignoring the rising heat in his cheeks. He clasps his hands together in front of himself, a nervous habit. “I feel like I should at least know your name before I kiss you.”</p><p>“Dream,” the man—Dream—supplies. “So you <em> are </em>going to kiss me?” His lips curl into a smug smirk.</p><p>George’s breath catches and he swears it’s a miracle he doesn’t choke. “I—maybe I am,” he shoots back, scrunching his nose. His thoughts bounce between <em> I don’t want to kiss him, really </em> and <em> I do, only a little, just to see what it feels like </em> as if someone had set a rubber ball loose in his skull.</p><p>And then there’s no thoughts at all, large hands pressed down at the dip of his waist, pulling him closer. “Why don’t we find out then?” Dream whispers; George notices how easily he can get lost in the array of freckles over the blond man’s face, how easily he can fall for the stupidly cute and charming smile. “Come on, darling, tell me your name too, it’s only fair,” he prompts.</p><p>“George,” he sputters quietly, breathlessly, because he’s so enthralled that he can’t bring himself to say anything else. His heart is hammering in his chest, beating as if it were going to break open his rib cage and crawl right out. </p><p>“So, <em> George</em>,” the Brit drinks in the way his name rolls off of Dream’s tongue, as if it were sacred and fragile, “I’ll ask something else this time: are you going to let <em> me </em> kiss <em> you</em>?”</p><p>For lack of a coherent response, George nods; his utterly idiotic brain reasons, <em> it’s not really PDA if he just doesn’t register the other people around him</em>. That’s all Dream needs to close the gap, leaning down and connecting their lips together; it’s annoying how much George thinks it feels like he should’ve been kissing this stranger earlier—how much he feels their lips are made for each other, pressing perfectly together. George snakes his hands up and around Dream’s neck, keeping him close. The chatter of the party is nothing but white noise, his mind filled with the taste of Dream’s lips and the ghostly touch of his hands on his hips. </p><p>It all ends too soon for his liking, Dream pulling away and George chasing after his lips. Dream laughs at that and pulls a finger up, pressing lightly against the brunet’s kiss-swollen lips to stop him in his tracks.</p><p>“I didn’t say I would <em> keep </em>kissing you,” Dream teases, then twists his hand to run a thumb across George’s quickly-reddening cheek. “But you’re so cute that it almost makes me want to. How about you stick with me the rest of the night, baby? You didn’t seem to be having much fun plastered to the couch earlier.”</p><p>“Wha—earlier?”</p><p>“Did I accidentally kiss the memory out of you?” The blond chuckles and lightly runs his fingers through the front of George’s bangs, which the latter finds extremely hard to resist; it tingles a little and sends electric shocks down his spine. “You looked like you wanted to run away before, all annoyed, but now you’re practically melting against me, hm?”</p><p>George does his best to scoff, but the words are going off like fireworks in his mind. And <em> fuck, the pet names</em>. “‘M not,” he says stubbornly. “I just happen to like the way you play with my hair, that’s all.”</p><p>“And the way I kiss?” Dream raises a brow.</p><p>“Maybe.”</p><p>“I might just have to kiss you until you admit you like it then.”</p><p>The Brit laughs, partially nervous because he knows that if Dream <em> did </em> do that, he would become putty in his hands. “Don’t you think you should take me out to dinner first?”</p><p>“Right, and <em> then </em>I’ll kiss the living shit out of you. Got it.” He laughs as well, pulling his hand from George’s hair, who looks only the slightest bit disappointed at the loss of contact. “Are you free next Saturday?”</p><p>George blinks. “Huh? Wait—you’re, like, serious?”</p><p>“Of course I am.” Dream smiles, softer than he had before. George’s heart skips a beat. “You think I’m going around the party kissing everyone who walks by?”</p><p>“Uh,” George starts, then stops. He smiles sheepishly.</p><p>“That hurts, darling,” Dream coos, but he shakes it off with a quiet chuckle. “So?”</p><p>“So?” George parrots.</p><p>“Are you free or not?”</p><p>“Oh,” George says, “<em>oh</em>, yes, I—I am, yeah.”</p><p>“Great! Perfect. I’ll take you somewhere nice, then.” Dream hums and reaches to his pocket, pulling out what George would assume is his phone (though he wouldn’t be surprised if Dream had just snatched some random person’s phone for shits and giggles). “I’ll give you my number, ‘kay?”</p><p>“‘Kay,” George repeats and pulls out his own phone; they exchange their numbers and then Dream looks down at him and smiles again. “What?”</p><p>“Nothing,” Dream says. “I just think it’s funny.”</p><p>“Huh? What’s funny?”</p><p>“You.”</p><p>George frowns. “That’s not nice.”</p><p>“No, no,” the blond laughs and waves a hand at George, “I meant it’s funny that you actually kissed me and <em> then </em>decided you wanted to go on a date. You seemed like you wouldn’t be the type to do something like that.”</p><p>“I—I’m not,” George sputters, easily flushing red once more. “I didn’t mean to, it just—it happened.”</p><p>“So you fell victim to my charms?”</p><p>“Ugh, I’m starting to regret this,” George mutters, but his tone is laid thick with fondness. He figures he’d kill Karl and Sapnap for leaving him alone at this awful party all night, but at the very least, he got something good out of it: Dream. And if things go well, he could <em> finally </em>force them to stop cracking single jokes at him every five minutes.</p><p>“Are you really?” Dream asks, snapping George back to reality.</p><p>He hums, as if mulling it over. Finally, “no, of course not. I’d kiss you again. Totally.”</p><p>Dream snorts and his head falls, leaving messy blond locks to cover his eyes. “You’re such an idiot,” he whispers so lovingly that it should be illegal, and George thinks he could get used to hearing that.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>follow me on <a href="https://mobile.twitter.com/NETHERW4RT">twitter</a> im cool 😎</p></blockquote></div></div>
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